Dissolve
by justrandomspnstuff
Summary: Dean came back from a tough supply run. What he needs right now is Cas. Endverse!cas and Endverse!dean (destiel)


Dean stared at the way the dash hitched with every bump as he drove through the gates at the camp. The mud from earlier was starting to dry. He could feel it in his hair. His fingernails. On his cheeks—cracking and pulling on the skin and tiny hairs with vengeance. And clouds of heat trapped inside the jeep added to the brittle feeling of it all.

The buzz from the long drive ceased with the engine, but Dean felt like he could still feel the vibrations as he slung his gun across his back and crawled out. He heard Jake's door open as his friend climbed out the other side

Chuck was there first, clipboard in hand, his hair and facial features predictably eccentric. The prophet's eyebrows widened when he took in the their mud-caked forms. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but then he saw Cas, leaning on the doorway of the cabin, a joint poking from his lips. The smoke waved around his face as he took in Dean's apparel. The corner of Cas's mouth twitched in amusement as he pushed himself off the wood and sauntered toward them.

When Cas reached Dean, he blinked slowly, his eyes already bloodshot, each step slow and deliberate. Dean turned away, reaching over the seat to grab a gun from the glove compartment. When he turned back, Cas close, grinning stupidly and breathing smoke in his face. The angel reached forward, carding a hand through Dean's mud-caked hair with an amused expression.

"You look good," said Cas, teasing.

"Don't," Dean said, pushing the angel's hand away.

Cas's hand fell reluctantly and he reached up, scissoring his joint in his fingers and taking another puff. The corners of Cas's eyes still crinkled in entertainment.

Until Chuck spoke: "Greg?" the prophet asked as Scott packed up the rest of the gear. Dean slammed the door shut too loudly.

Instead of answering, Dean walked right past Chuck, not acknowledging the man, or his question. But, as he passed, he could see the way Chuck took this action for an answer, and Dean saw him trail away to tell Greg's sister the news.

Cas followed Dean to the cabin, smoke trailing behind them like a train. And it wasn't until both Chuck and Scott were gone, and they had reached the door to their cabin that Dean could even bring himself to look the angel in the eye.

Dean blinked when he did, marveling how blue Cas's gaze still was. Even with the glaze of the drugs, and swollen veins in his eyes, Dean still felt like he was looking into light blue glass. Dean knew Cas could see inside him now, like he sometimes could, and the hunter shivered and turned away.

"Cmon," Cas said, his tone understanding. From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas lick his lips and tip his head to motion they go inside.

Obediently, Dean kicked his boots off at the door. He stepped through the threshold, and a second later, he felt Cas's fingers lacing their way through Dean's filthy hand, the angel squeezing when Dean didn't react.

Cas dragged Dean forward slowly, the hunter's hand limp. And silently, Cas led Dean into the bathroom, only letting go to shut the door behind them.

Dean's eyes followed the angel as Cas bent over to turn on the bath water, letting his hand run under the tap to test the temperature, then flicking his fingers to clear the droplets.

Dean looked at his bare toes, his chin on his chest, as his hands fisted the hard surface of the counter behind him. And the noise from the drive was still there, buzzing in his head, filling him up with images of mud and blood and Scott.

Then, suddenly, Cas's hand was on his cheek, cold and damp from the tub, guiding Dean's chin up and to his eyes. Instead of commenting, Cas pulled the shrinking joint from his lips, holding it out for Dean.

Slowly, Dean reached forward, pinching it and drawing it to himself. The first inhale felt dry as he sucked. Dry like his hair, and clothes, and skin. Cas nodded encouragingly, as they passed the joint back and forth between them, the room saturated with steam and smoke as they inhaled and exhaled each other's air. And they were quiet, staring like before, Cas reaching a soothing thumb to run along the hunter's jaw anytime his gaze would fall, like a reminder to stay there. With him.

Finally, the joint was a nub Cas flicked into the sink as he turned off the bath water. And, a moment later, Cas's attentions were on Dean again as he reached out and touched the hunter's hand lightly. Dean stared at it, feeling the small way his his skin lit up at the touch. And, slowly, Cas let his fingers stroke along the cracks of mud on Dean's arm, and shoulder. He lightly traced up the vein on Dean's neck, sketching his jaw, then stopping against his mouth, where he thumbed Dean's bottom lip. They met eyes, and Cas leaned in, lightly kissing Dean's mud covered lips. It was chaste and careful, and when Cas pulled away, Dean could still taste the grit against his teeth. But, the angel didn't complain. Instead, he carded his fingers through Dean's hair, tilting his head to the side as he eyed the small dried flakes that tumbled to the floor.

"You're a mess," Cas said smirking. And Dean felt himself return the smile so briefly, he felt sure Cas missed it.

Cas didn't comment on it if he did, and instead the angel took it as his cue, reaching under Dean's shirt and lifting it over the hunter's head. Dean raised his arm's helping Cas's efforts, and as soon as the shirt was shucked to the floor, he felt Cas's hands exploring his chest, running soothingly across the skin, one hand still slightly colder than the other. Dean felt himself relax into it, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

Then, Cas's hands dipped to Dean's belt, popping the buckle, undoing his pants with expert hands, and, if Dean looked, what he was sure would be a smug look on the angel's face. Instead, Dean looked at the ground as his pants pooled around his ankles and stepped out of them quickly.

Cas surprised Dean, kissing him again, knocking the hunter off balance as his back hit the sink. Then, using the distraction, Cas pulled Dean's boxers to the ground, not breaking away from the kiss until the hunter stood clothesless in front of him.

Dean stayed still while Cas stepped back, looking at Dean's muddy, naked form. The angel's chest rose steadily as his eyes explored the expanse of skin.

The hunter's mind drifted back to the first time Cas had done this. Made Dean lie down naked and exposed on the bed after sex as Cas memorized him without touch. And, Dean remembered how his cheeks had turned red, the urge to look away prominent. But every time he'd tried, Cas had pulled him back, a palm on Dean's cheek, his hand wordlessly insisting that Dean watch as the angel mapped the curves and lines of his body.

And after, Dean had realized, it was the most intimate thing he'd ever taken part in. Because it wasn't about sex, or pleasure, or dominance. It was about vulnerability. Trust. In these moments, Dean let the hardness from outside the door fall away, and it wasn't Cas, the fallen angel, looking to Dean for guidance, direction, or leadership. It was just Cas, the man who stayed dressed while Dean stood naked, letting him see all of him. His body. His emotions.

Dean sighed, his shoulders relaxing as Cas finally leaned forward, letting his forehead lean on Dean's.

"You're beautiful," Cas whispered, like he always did. And, when the angel pulled away, Dean could see a small smudge of mud on Cas's forehead. Dean bit back a small smile as Cas grabbed his hands and led him to the tub. The hunter's hands were slack and trusting. He stepped into the tub, sinking deep into the water with a groan.

Then, Cas knelt behind him, his hands on Dean's shoulders, slowly rubbing away the grime, then down his arms. His neck. Finally, Cas had his hands in Dean's hair, cupping water and bringing it up to the top of his head and letting it tumble down, sending muddy wet streaks cascading. He started massaging Dean's head, trying to free the rest of the filth from his hair. Dean leaned his head back, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and relaxed. After most of it was out, Cas directed Dean to dunk his head under the water to wash the rest. Dean obliged, surfacing free of dirt, revealing a face that Cas recognized.

Dean started to shiver, and Cas reached down, pulling the plug out with a wet 'pop.' And the hunter didn't complain when Cas wrapped him in a towel guiding him to the bed with a light hand on his back. And neither of them reached to pick it up when Dean's towel dropped to the floor before he crawled under the covers, Cas behind him, hand snaking across his chest, his body flush with Dean's naked one. The angel's mouth rested on Dean's shoulder, breathing hot breaths across the hunter's skin.

Cas placed a small kiss on his back. "Look at me," he whispered.

Dean did. And, when he did, he felt the the buzz calm. Settling and dissolving until there was nothing left. Nothing but blue.


End file.
